


durban skies

by Skyebyrd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drinking, M/M, PLUS ACTION ROLLS, team lads action road trip, vague sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a celebration of Team Lads being "official" for one year, the Lads decide to take a road trip. The roads are long and winding, each city having it's own turns and drawing the three of them as close as they can get. And perhaps, for some, closer than they could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	durban skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quackingfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quackingfish/gifts).



> Written for the rt secret santa, for tumblr user kiersbum
> 
> recommended listening: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lw5FwThzKzE

Michael sighs in satisfaction upon hearing the slam of the car’s trunk; seven bags of clothing (because Gavin can’t go anywhere without at least five different half-packed bags, but Michael managed to cram it into three), four bags of snack food, and five cartons of beer cause for a bit of a tight fit, but Gavin insisted the old rickety van could handle the weight. He pats the license plate (mainly to stop the rattling after he slammed it down) and hears Ray’s groan behind him.

“What’s up this time?” Michael asks as he turns around, only to see his friend with three boxes of Pepsi in his possession, waiting to be packed into the now-closed trunk. Michael groans with him.

“Seriously, lads, we need to chunk something out or this van’ll break within an hour.”

“Gavin, you’re the one who recommended this piece of shit to us, don’t you _dare_ start complaining now.” Ray gripes, and Gavin just chuckles.

“Aw come on, boys, we couldn’t very well take a cross-country trip and not take a shitty van! It wouldn’t have been very American of us, would it have?” Gavin’s smirking proudly, and Ray just rolls his eyes.

“A), that sounds like the most un-American thing ever, you take a fucking sporty car on cross-country trips to pick up chicks on their way to California to become famous, and B) you aren’t even American, how dare you just label our people like that?”

“Oh, piss off, Ray, the van’ll be fine if we just take a few things out first.”

 “Alright, Fix-It Felix, what do you recommend we take out?”

Gavin just stares at the van in contemplation of Michael’s question, fingers tapping on his chin like some fucking detective. He just stares, and stares, and stares some more at the peeling paint and rusted exhaust pipe and taped over gas tank, and two minutes later, he snaps his fingers and reaches a conclusion.

“The bevs?”

Out of all the things Michael was expecting Gavin to demand be shoved out (Ray’s four different gaming consoles, Michael’s giant box of movies (and possibly all three seasons of My Little Pony)) the beer was honestly the last thing on the list. Before Michael can register anything, Ray throws his hands up in the air in triumph, throws the Pepsis on the ground and opens up the backseat, pulling the beer out and replacing it with the soda.

“Oh no, Gav, no way. Uh-uh. All three of us know you’re just going to throw a huge fucking bitch fit throughout the entire trip if you don’t have a beer in your hand, and I’m not going to stand it. Ray, put the fucking beer back, I will personally hold the Pepsi if it means Gavin gets his beer.” Michael’s face and voice is positively exuding irritation, but both boys nod, reluctantly.

Ray mumbles, “All I really need is my DS anyway, it’s all good…” and proceeds to remove the gaming consoles from the trunk and walks back into Michael’s apartment to store them for the duration of the trip. Michael places the beer and soda (bar one container of each, which will sit next to Gavin in the backseat for easy access) into the trunk, and then slams it shut one final time.

Michael and Gavin both rest against the side of the van, Michael trying his hardest not to peel off any more paint, and watch the sun steadily rise over the Austin skyline. It shines too brightly, in Michael’s opinion, but maybe he likes sleeping late so fuck you.

Although, they had decided an early start would mean more time to sleep _later_ , and that was hardly a difficult choice, when it came down to it.

Ray comes down a few minutes later, and Gavin smiles brightly.

“Well, lads, time to roll on out!”

…

Granted, the road trip was Michael’s idea. They had said to the gents that this trip is a celebration for the fifth Achievement Hunter anniversary, but it is more of a one-year anniversary of Team Lads being “official.” Ray had come down to Austin a year ago last week, and a month ago Michael had suggested they do something for it. At the time of its conception, the idea of a road trip across the country seemed like a lovely idea, driving west through New Mexico and Arizona, going up through California and circling back around towards Texas again through Nevada. Well, half the country then. Maybe a little less. But hey, fuck math anyway.

Ray and Gavin had been all for it; Ray never travels except for between home and New York, and Gavin hasn’t seen a whole lot of America (only having been to California a handful of times with Burnie for business purposes, but never for leisure). Everyone was so excited for it when Michael brought it up, but now that they’re actually going through with it?

A completely different story.

The van continues to make these terrible screeching noises, Gavin wincing with every movement that jerks the steering wheel and Michael just wants to fucking shoot the breaks and their God-awful screams if it wouldn’t have defeated the purpose of them. They’re in their mid-twenties so they are naturally not gifted with the ability to pack accordingly (Ray’s perfection of Tetris be damned) and so everything shakes and quakes and rattles and _goddamnit, who the fuck thought getting beer bottles and not cans was a brilliant idea?_

They are hardly three hours in, and Michael already wants to fucking turn back.

Will they? No, of course not, they’re in their mid-twenties so they are naturally stubborn as shit, but Michael just wishes he had decided they could go out for a bar crawl and not a fucking drag-this-shit-across-the-country-crawl.

But he’s digressing from the point.

Michael’s the one at the wheel, considering he’s the only of them to actually have a fucking license, and so Gavin is well on his way to becoming absolutely mullered, and Ray is getting to his “oh my god it’s almost that time of day, wait for it, wait for it, JUH BLAY” set of mind; both are annoying in their own right, but at least Michael can’t say there’ll be no entertainment for him the entire way there. He just vaguely hopes against hope they don’t do this literally the entire time, or else he’ll go insane.

The conversation steadily steers away from the shit van and the shit packing job and the shit beer tolerance (belonging solely to Gavin) and towards brighter topics: namely, what they’re going to do once they hit California.

Gavin pipes up in the back, “Aren’t we going to do anything on the way there, or are we just gonna straight-shoot it?”

Ray shrugs from his seat; he has the map spread out across his lap, and while Michael has his phone acting as a GPS, he isn’t very comfortable having the other two fuck around on it in case they set a destination for Iceland or something ridiculous. Thus, the map for the guys to look at for when they get curious.

“We could stop in Phoenix, maybe? New Mexico’s basically just desert, from what I know from my boss-ass education. Shout out to public schools.”

“Ray, there is literally just us here, who the fuck are you shouting them out to?”

“There’s always an audience, Michael.” Ray says dramatically, making a large sweeping gesture with his hands. Michael just gives back a sarcastic “uh-huh” and carries on driving.

“But back to the point; isn’t the Grand Canyon in New Mexico? We could check it out!” Gavin says cheerily, and both Michael and Ray laugh hard. “What?”

“The Grand Canyon is in Arizona, Gav, but sure, we can check it out on the way back; we’re gonna come down through that area, anyway, no reason we shouldn’t see it. But seriously, the way we’re going to Cali, New Mexico is really just desert. Not a whole lot to do except drive and check out sand storms and ride our horses into the night.”

“ _Now_ who’s being the dramatic one, Mikey?”

“Ray, call me that one more fucking time and I’ll tear your balls off while you sleep.”

“Duly noted.”

They eventually come to the decision to just drive through Texas and New Mexico, waiting to make a normal stop until they get to the Phoenix. Simple enough, really.

...

All three boys are used to big cities (New York for Michael and Ray, Austin for Gavin) so none of them are particularly shocked by the hustle and bustle of people around them, nor the towering buildings and loud cars.

It’s the _heat_.

Austin has been going through a cold spell, and while that doesn’t bother any of them at all (all having grown up in northern areas of the world), it has also made them forget just how hot everything is capable of getting. The second they leave the beautifully air-conditioned van, Michael’s neck breaks out into sweat and he just knows he’s going to burn today. Fucking great.

Having been in the van for two days with only bathroom breaks and stops at shit hotels for a few hours before they’re off again, Michael is especially glad to move around again after being cooped up for so long. He’ll gladly endure the heat if it means freedom for the day.

“Oh, Michael, Ray, come check this guy out!”

And, of course, Gavin immediately gets distracted by some musician.

Michael follows Gavin over to the end of the block (after double checking the van is, in fact, locked) and sees what all the hubbub is about: a nice looking young man is playing something on his electric violin; Michael doesn’t recognize the song, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate talent. He tosses a five in, expecting they’d leave soon, but instead Gavin surprises them, and insists they stay. They stand there for quite a bit, watching as he plays song after song, and while Michael’s a bit bored by this point, Gavin clearly isn’t, so they do as he asks. It’s about what _all_ of them want to do here, after all.

And really, the guy’s fucking great, but the second the musician notices Gavin’s attention is locked on him he begins showing off with riffs on his fancy electric violin. Gavin just absolutely eats it up and dumps a twenty in his bucket. Michael almost laughs at Gavin’s idiocy for falling for this guys obvious ploy to get more money when he sees the guy beckon Gavin over, whisper in his ear something that makes Gavin blush, and give him something; it’s a piece of paper with his phone number written on it, and Gavin’s devious smile when he walks back sends Michael’s stomach roiling.

Ray beats him to it.

“C’mon, Gavin, we’ve been standing here for-fucking-ever, can’t we go do something fun?” Ray whines, and Gavin’s smirk doesn’t shrink one bit as he pockets the number and winks at the musician as they all walk away from him.

“I’ll be doing something fun tonight, if all goes well.”

Ray’s face positively curdles. “Dude, gross. I don’t need to know where you stick your disco stick.”

Gavin grins. “Oh, come off it, you’re just jealous I’m getting some within the first half-hour we’ve been here.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

“Whatever, man. Wait, no, Michael, back me up!”

“Gavin Free, put that thing back where it came from, or so help me.” Is Michael’s blunt reply, and he’s a bit shocked at himself for doing that on such short notice _and_ with a straight face. Kudos to him, he supposes.

“But Michael, my dick isn’t even out yet!” Gavin whines, grabbing Michael’s shoulder; they all laugh when Michael shoves Gavin back hard and he stumbles some, but he catches up within a moment.

“Anyway,” Ray cuts in, “any idea what the hell we’re gonna do here? I’ve been looking up some shit, and it’s basically an indie city like Austin. Lots of old-school theaters, but there’s an amusement park about an hour out if we wanna skip here and go there instead?”

Michael thinks upon it; if they leave the city, Gavin won’t get another chance to meet up with Electric Violin Asshole and he’ll be pissed off like nobody’s business.

It isn’t a hard decision, really.

 “Yeah, let’s do it.”

And when they pass by that block again and the musician isn’t there, Michael’s smile only grows wider.

…

“Aw, come on Michael, please? All you’ll have to do is drop me off there! I can get a taxi back here in the morning, promise!” Gavin pleads, but Michael is adamant.

“No, Gavin, we only have so much money for gas, I can’t just fucking cart you around every time you wanna get laid.” And maybe he snaps  a bit more than he means to, but dammit, he’s sunburnt and hungry, and yeah, they have enough gas money for way more than their trip would allow, but Gavin doesn’t have to fucking know that. Besides which, they had been having a fucking wonderful time at the amusement park and even on the drive to the hotel until Gavin had brought up “Jaxon.” Yeah, spelled with an ‘x.’ Pretentious fuckwad.

“But-”

“No, Gavin, Jesus, let it go will you? I wanna get some sleep sometime tonight; you know we gotta leave early tomorrow.” Ray complains from under his huge pile of blankets and pillows (some from the hotel, most are his), and Gavin gives up the argument and opts to ignore Michael for the rest of the night, discontinuing the argument by hopping into bed with Ray and not Michael.

Michael tries not to think about how Gavin had slept in the same bed as him for the past two nights. He tries really, really hard, but the blankets are scratching at his skin and the pillows are shit, to be honest, and the ghost of Gavin’s breath on his neck is difficult to ignore.

He sighs deeply a few hours later when he’s positive Gavin and Ray have both fallen deeply asleep. Fucking wonderful start to a wonderful journey, Michael, absolutely lovely.

…

The next morning, Gavin continues his vow of silence and Ray throws a few pillows at his head, but he’s a stubborn guy. Neither of them manages to get a single peep out of Gavin all morning, and Michael’s really wondering if it’s about not allowing him to have sex, or something else.

Knowing Gavin, it’s probably just the sex. He can be a cranky fucker if he hasn’t gotten any in a while.

A quick shower, a change of clothes, and a packed trunk later and they’re well on their well to the Arizona-California border. It’s nearing on six in the morning, and the winter-time means the sun is just rising above the horizon and turning the sky into a medley of oranges and pinks that splash well with the heat in the air; everything is on fire.

Michael looks into the rearview mirror to point it out to Gavin, hoping to pull him out of his funk, but he’s fast asleep. Gavin has a gentle face while he’s asleep, Michael is surprised to notice, his almost-too-long hair cascading down his forehead and his beautiful lips opened slightly to reveal teeth.

“Think he won’t talk to us the whole time?” Ray’s voice cuts through the silence, and Michael’s gaze is pulled back to the front seat; he hadn’t even noticed he’d been staring.

“Nah, Gavin’s stubborn but even he can’t keep a grudge for more than a day. He’ll be talking to us by lunch time.” A thought makes Michael smile. “Especially if we stop somewhere to piss while he’s asleep and then don’t stop until we get to California.”

Ray’s grin matches Michael’s.  “Let’s fucking do it.”

…

Gavin snaps by ten.

“Guys, if we don’t stop for me to piss in ten seconds, I will take my dick out and piss all over Ray’s bag. Don’t think I won’t.” Michael and Ray continue to insist that there isn’t another rest stop for miles (which is true, but Michael easily notices they could just pull off to the side of the road and let Gavin piss there), but then Gavin shocks everyone.

He follows through with his threat.

Everyone is silent through the ordeal, the only sound coming from the steady stream in the backseat. Their mouths are dropped open (even Gavin’s; he’s just as surprised as everyone else), until Ray decides to speak, his voice sounding of pure shock.

“Did that just really happen?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

And everyone breaks down into absolute hysterics, and Michael has to pull over for fear of running the van off the road and killing them all. Michael’s crying, and Gavin is rolling over in the backseat, and Ray looks like he’s in pain and has a stitch in his side he’s laughing so hard, and it’s good.

 It’s really good for them.

Gavin eventually sits up, laughter slowing down between them, and he reaches to the front seat, wrapping his arms around his friends and bringing them all together for a hug. Michael’s skin feels like the sky from this morning, and Gavin’s eyes are closed, but he knows if they were open they’d be like cooling water.

“Dude, gross! Get your piss hands off of me!” Ray yells, and then they’re howling again, Ray frantically trying to find something to clean himself off with. He finds (by pure miracle of the rental company) some wet wipes, grabs four, and tosses the box to Gavin to clean his hands off with. “We’re also gonna need to like, quarantine the bag or something before it starts reeking. I can practically smell it now.”

Gavin takes a sniff, which turns out to be a bad idea as he immediately gags and retches against the smell.

“Hey, you can’t throw up. You’re the one that pissed on it, you’re gonna clean it.” Michael scolds through a smile, and he pulls back onto the road as Gavin whines back.

“But Michael, you guys wouldn’t let me piss! What was I supposed to do, let my penis explode?” He pouts into the rearview mirror, and Michael mocks him.

“Oi, lads! Look a’ this! Me widdle pen-shwa ‘as gone and munged itself! Help me, boys!”

Gavin’s pout looks like it’s about to turn itself back into a smile, but, again, Gavin’s stubborn.

“I do not sound like that.”

Ray cuts in, still laughing loudly. “Yeah, dude, you kinda do.”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Children, if you don’t stop, I will turn this car around.”

Nobody takes it seriously.

Hours pass, and Michael smiles to himself when Gavin’s phone sounds off and he groans when he sees who it is.

“You think this guy’d get the hint when I don’t reply to him, yknow?”

“Yeah, Gav. You’d think.”

…

In order to apologize to Gavin for two nights ago, Michael decides they can go clubbing. They’re finally in California, so they might as well have some fun, right?

San Diego feels exactly like Phoenix and Austin in that it is all hipsters and foodies, and the lads couldn’t have felt more awkward roaming the streets in their sweats and fast food bags, hunting for a club they could hit later that night. They all seem the same, but they eventually find one down by the boardwalk, and the back balcony opens up right on the beachfront. Gavin “oohs” and “ahs” appropriately upon finding it, and it is decided by him, considering this is his cheer-up present.

As they’re finishing off their lunch, Gavin’s phone sounds again; he looks at the number and groans loudly, hitting “ignore.” A few seconds later, they hear a ‘ding’ that tells Gavin that he has a new voice message.

“This is the bloody third one Jaxon’s given me today, this is just bizarre.” Gavin gripes, and immediately deletes it without even listening to it.

“Why don’t you just call him and tell him to fuck off?” Ray asks through his burger, and Gavin and Michael make disgusted faces.

“Well, I don’t wanna be rude, do I?” Gavin says after his stomach has settled down again. “He seemed nice enough, but I haven’t spoken to him in almost three days now, I just wish he’d get the hint, but he just isn’t!”

Something in Michael takes over, and he holds his hand out. “Gavin, give me your phone.”

His eyebrows scrunch together, but he concedes. “O…kay? What’re you gonna do?”

Michael fingers are already tapping their way through to Jaxon’s number. “Give this guy a fucking piece of my mind, of course.”

Ray laughs and gives encouragement, but Gavin’s eyes go wide and he starts protesting; Michael refuses to budge.

Jaxon picks up within two rings, and his voice is desperate. “Gavin? Gavin, babe, are you okay? You just stopped replying, and I thought something had happened to you-”

“Okay, listen here, fucker. Leave Gavin alone. He stopped replying because you’re some guy he met within the first ten minutes we were in Phoenix, and we watched you play for, like, ten minutes and you wanted to jump his bones. Fucking weird. Step the fuck off, dude.” Michael cuts in, and Jaxon defends himself almost immediately.

“Excuse me? Gavin and I had a connection, bro, it’s probably something you wouldn’t understand. You weren’t connected to his soul like I was, okay, you-”

“Connected to his soul? While I’m all for fucking ‘true love’ or whatever-the-fuck, Gavin is my best friend, and I know him. He isn’t like that. So quit with your obsessions, quite with your texts and voice messages and calls, okay, just stop. It’s freaking him and our group out.”

And Michael just hangs up the phone.

Gavin and Ray are just staring at him, Gavin blushing and Ray looking like a proud father.

Michael hands Gavin his phone back and just barely resists flipping his hair to show off. Their hands touch, and Michael half-expects something dumb to happen, but it doesn’t. His hand doesn’t burn with nerves or electricity, nor does ice creep up his spine, nor does static fill his brains and- really, nothing happens.

“So you guys ready for some mad swag?” They’re distracted by Ray’s voice, and they turn to look at him; he’s balancing a full cup on his forehead, and Michael and Gavin know this can only end in disaster, but it’s still an amazing feat while it las- and yep, there it tumbles, right down his face and shirt, splashing on the pavement as they all laugh at his antics.

“That was pretty tippers, Ray, thanks."

“You are one hundred percent welcome, friend.”

Michael doesn’t quite allow the Nothing-Happening to leave his mind the rest of the day.

…

The second the sun sets, it’s almost as if San Diego is a completely different city. All the hipsters get smashed, the foodies grab cans of beer like everyone else, and the lads head back to the beach-front club, even though Plan: Cheer Up British Asshole has already succeeded. But dancing and getting drunk is dancing and getting drunk and they’re in their mid-twenties so it’s only natural they’d need this every now and again.

 Getting into the club is only a hassle for Ray; the bouncer almost refuses to let him in because the youngest has no clue what his zodiac sign in, but he is eventually let in when he says he’s Gavin’s and Michael’s ride home (which isn’t true at fucking all, but whatever). Michael laughs hardest at Ray, who takes it in stride, but Gavin refuses to stop teasing him.

Michael has placed himself at the bar an hour later, Ray off in the bathrooms and Gavin off in the dance floor’s crowd, presumably having gotten some girl to dance with already; the lights have begun to give Michael a slight headache, but that’s nothing a little alcohol couldn’t fix, right? Anyways, Michael hasn’t had a drink in three days due to being the only one fucking capable of driving, he fucking deserves one.

He just tells the bartender to give him something strong, but not something that’s gonna have him raging drunk within three drinks, and he’s mixed a bright blue something-or-other. Michael shrugs; he’s in California, might as well live a little. He takes a sip, and it tastes vaguely of fruit, but then the sweet rum hits him and he grins; it’s fucking amazing. The bartender asks him what he thinks, and he tells him, the bartender smiling at having guessed right.

Gavin sidles up to him a few sips later, skin glistening and grin splitting his face, and orders the bartender to give him a shot of whiskey for himself and- oh, he’s brought someone along with him.

“Hey, Michael, meet Andrew!”

Andrew is a bit of a shorter guy and a tad on the chubbier side, which Michael didn’t think was Gavin’s type at all, but who is he to judge? Andrew shoves his pale hand across the bar and shouts over the music a greeting that Michael can’t quite make out, and they shake hands.

Well, he’s polite, if nothing else.

Gavin continues babbling on through their interaction. “Michael, you have got to go out dancing with us! Ray’s even managed to get himself distracted by some bird, you can’t just sit here by yourself for the rest of the night.” Gavin begs, his lips bowing around the rim of his shot and downing it, tongue poking out to lick the remnants off his lips.

Michael shakes his head. “Dancing’s not for me, man, you know that.”

Gavin pouts at that. “But me and you went dancing all the bloody time back in Austin, Michael, come on. This isn’t any different!”

“Yeah, but that was with you, Ray, Lindsay, Geoff and Griffon, Ryan, and a bunch of other people I know. You’re with Anderson-”

“Andrew.” Andrew cuts in.

“Andrew, sorry, and Ray’s ‘with some bird,’ so I’d just get in your way.” Michael takes another sip from his drink, but Gavin refuses to give up on him.

“Michael, you can’t just sit here at the bar all night! Live a little, boy!” Gavin shakes his hips a little to emphasize his point, and Michael blatantly laughs at the display. “You are coming dancing, and you are not taking no for an answer.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Gavin-”

“Oh, just shut up and come on.” And with that, Gavin grabs Michael’s hand and successfully drags him to the dance floor where bodies of strangers rub against him accidentally and he has to apologize to at least three women, four men, and one drag queen for stepping on their toes. Once they’re well and deep in the crowd, the bass pounding into his ribs, Gavin places his hands on Michael’s hips, and that nothing-feeling returns from that afternoon and Michael’s breath stutters.

Neither of them really notices that they’ve lost Andrew in the crowd. Or maybe Andrew didn’t follow, who knows. Michael certainly doesn’t give a shit.

Gavin’s hands gently coax Michael’s hips into moving with the rhythm, starting out slowly and then faster and faster as the beat changes with the pace, and Michael never really needed a whole lot of convincing to do what Gavin asks; the beat is fast and hard now and they’re mimicking it so easily it steals the rest of Michael’s breath and sweat breaks out on his neck, and he’s reminded of Phoenix.

Eventually, someone collides into Gavin, sending him into Michael’s chest with nothing but a “Sorry, dude!” from the perpetrator. Michael’s face pinkens, but neither of them moves away, so it doesn’t even matter. The beat is still the same, and Gavin’s breath is as fast as it always is, and he’s still Michael.

Nothing happens that night.

Really.

…

“Nope, I am not hearing a single word about any hangovers. You guys knew exactly what you were doing last night, so take some damn pain meds like men and suck it up.” Ray says upon the first groan of the morning, which was Michael’s fault, yes, but wow, Ray didn’t have to zip up his pants _that_ loudly, did he?

But no, he just continues zipping and buttoning and clanging about the room in the most obnoxious manner possible, and Michael is absolutely convinced he’s doing it on purpose, and he just sends up a silent prayer of thanks that Gavin is still asleep because he is the absolute worst when he has a hangover.

Ray plops down a coffee mug on the bedside table, and coffee splashes over the rim and onto the wood, but neither of them really cares. He’ll clean it up later, if he remembers. Michael takes a few quick, scalding gulps of it to wake himself up even just the smallest bit, although it does nothing to curb the throbbing deep within his skull. He sits up in the bed, shoving the blankets aside and walking swiftly to the bathroom to take a piss, a shower, and some ibuprofen. Maybe not in that particular order, because his head hurts like shit and everyone pees in the shower anyways, so.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door while Michael’s scrubbing his fingers through his hair, trying to clean it of all the sweat and booze it had accumulated last night. It’s Gavin.

“Hey, can I run in and pee real quick? I’ll only be a second, promise.” He asks, and Michael hasn’t given a fuck in years, so he allows it.

But, of course, Gavin isn’t even a goddamned human being, so he tries to start a fucking conversation while he’s peeing and Michael’s taking a shower.

“Last night was pretty crazy, huh?”

“Uh, sure, Gavin, whatever.” Truth be told, he didn’t remember a whole lot of what happened, and considering his headache is still going at a thousand miles an hour, it wasn’t a whole lot of good. “Do you even know what happened?”

Gavin chuckles as he zips his pants back up. “Of course I do, you silly! Don’t you?” Michael can hear the faucet turn on and, despite himself, continues the conversation.

“Yeah, well, I don’t, so mind filling a brother in?”

“Oh come off it, there’s no way you don’t know what happened. Why are you so grouchy this morning?”

 “I feel like I have a beehive in my skull and possibly a wrecking ball doing some damage to them. So, no, I’m not happy, you gonna fucking tell me why I got smashed last night, or are you just gonna listen to me shower like a fucking weirdo?” Michael snaps.

“Well, I mean, it’s- it’s a bit, uh-” Gavin stutters, and he sounds like he can’t quite wrap his mind around figuring out how to explain whatever it is.

And in walks Ray.

“Gavin, please do not tell me you and Michael are having shower sex without me, I will be so upset.”

What the fuck is this, the community meeting grounds?

“Alright, no, fuck this shit, both of you get the hell out before I cut your balls off. Right now. I don’t even give a shit; I’ll kick a fucking tree down if it’ll get you guys out of the fucking bathroom so I can take a shower in peace and quiet so I can drive your asses across the damn country.”

“Well, to be fair, Michael, we’re only going around California and back, so-”

“Ray, you have officially lost your dick. The entire fucking thing. It’s not gonna be there when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Duly noted. Later!”

The bathroom is quiet after that point, and the door is shut with a soft click, so Michael assumes the bathroom is empty; when he emerges from under the spray a few minutes later, his suspicions were (thankfully) correct, and nobody is there.

He grabs one of the towels off the rack and dries himself off quickly, and only notices a minute too late that he forgot to bring his clothes in with him.

 _Oh well_ , he shrugs. He’s been hanging out with these boys since God-knows-when, they can stand to see him in a towel every now and again. So he walks out, and nobody questions it, until-

“Oh my god, Michael, are those hickeys?” Ray sounds equally full of surprise and glee, and Michael starts, eyebrows scrunching.

“What hickeys?” Michael grabs his clothes and moves back to the bathroom, rubbing the condensation aside and looking at his body; littered across his neck and chest (particularly the right side) are hickeys of differing shades and sizes, and Michael’s eyebrows raise quite a good bit.

Ray’s laughing loudly now. “Dude, you got absolutely _ravished_ by somebody last night! Gavin, did you see who it was? I must’ve missed it.”

Gavin walks into the bathroom, gaze falling on Michael’s body, and his grin holds memories.

“No idea.”

Gavin’s lying.

…

“So, where are we headed next, gentlemen?” Michael asks once he shuts the door firmly, the van packed full once again. Gavin still feels a bit hungover, so he’s sitting in the front seat where it’s at least _slightly_ less bumpy; Ray’s manning the backseat with the map and the beer, and Gavin isn’t exactly comfortable with the latter.

Michael takes a sip of his second cup of coffee as he puts the van in reverse and drives out of the parking lot, easily finding his way back onto the highway and driving north.

“We could hit Los Angeles?” Ray asks, but Gavin’s immediately shaking his head.

“Been there too often for business, it isn’t fun anymore.”

Michael scoffs. “Just because you’ve been there before doesn’t mean we have, Gavvy. You can show us around.”

Gavin groans quietly, but considering Michael’s the only one who is capable of driving, unless they want to walk back to Austin, they kind of have to listen to him. Michael certainly isn’t complaining about it.

…

Somehow, Los Angeles isn’t as calm as Michael thought I was going to be, and instead turns out to be a lot like Grand Theft Auto.

Like, _a lot_ like Grand Theft Auto.

“God damnit, Michael, why the fuck are the cops following us? What did we do? I’m not even from this damn country, Michael, I don’t deserve this! Take me to the embassy!”

“Gavin, will you shut up, I’m trying to not get us killed here.” Michael hears the yells of pissed-off men in the cop car trailing very closely behind them, and he curses. Seriously, what the absolute fuck has his life turned into? “And I don’t think they’re cops, Gavin, we just- _oh, Jesus Christ that’s a river_!”

While Michael had been trying to see where the cop car had gotten to now, he hadn’t even noticed himself veering slightly off-course, and now they’re flying over a hill and flipping over and over and over and they’re all screaming and, shit, there goes the beer right out the window.

They somehow land right on their wheels on the other bank, and the lads are certainly very confused.

“Did we just-?” Is all that can come out of Ray’s mouth, until the shouts are heard again, and Michael floors it up the hill and down a few streets until they can no longer hear them following.

Gavin’s the first one to laugh, although it’s short and brash. “Remind me not to piss Michael off when I get my license, you really ticked those guys off!”

Michael scowls back. “They cut me off, _and_ were going, like, ten miles under in the passing lane! What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

“Passed them like anybody else?”

“Yeah, well, that’s fucking boring, so go suck a dick.”

“Please don’t tell him to do that.”

Michael pulls the van off to the side of a road, and they all just breathe for a few minutes; Michael half-expects to see a wanted level on the radio screen, but that’d be ridiculous.

Well, he also thought getting chases by gangsters in a stolen cop-car was ridiculous, and yet, here they are.

“Is it bad that I legit thought we were gonna die back there?” Gavin asks, out of the blue, and both Michael and Ray look at him. Ray’s always been better with dealing with emotions, so he’s the first to react, laying a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and giving a small smile of encouragement.

“Nah, dude, don’t sweat it. When we flipped the van and the beer went flying I saw my life flash before my eyes, to be honest.” He gives a shrug, and Gavin’s eyes go wide.

“The beer’s gone?”

And just like that, they’re as they always were.

…

Gavin walks them around that night, even though he’s still a bit shaken up. They walk down Venice Beach and Santa Monica, and end up making five different sand castles at different points of the beach and try their best to make them all identical, even going so far as to take a photo of each one to keep them as identical as possible. Ray and Gavin write their nicknames in the sand, so next to X-RAY AND VAV, Michael writes MOGAR, and mimes wrecking the castle every time. They’re like little children.

They walk down that one road with all the stars on it that was in _Pretty Woman_ , Michael and Ray having a competition to name every movie each actor or actress had been in (even the ones they had never heard of), with Gavin acting as referee with his trusted internet-connected phone telling him all the answers. Needless to say, Ray the Useless Information Guy won. Michael’s calls him a cheater and they squabble for a bit before moving on.

A few locals tell them about a fireworks display going on down in Long Beach, so they hitch a cab just as the sun is setting. Once they arrive, they hunker down on the sand, Ray complaining about how he’ll have sand in his asshole the next morning. Gavin remarks that it shouldn’t be an unfamiliar feeling for Ray, but the younger just scrunches his eyebrows and gives him a Look, and they all laugh because Gavin never makes sense anyway. Trying to figure him out is useless.

The light from the fireworks casts a strange glow across the sand and the water, but Gavin’s sea-glass eyes reflect every color perfectly.

Michael doesn’t see a single firework in the sky that night, but quite a few fly across his skin, and he thinks he’s starting to catch on.

…

The highway they’re on goes up north to San Francisco, or east to Las Vegas, and they’ve got a choice to make.

But, really, it isn’t a very difficult one.

…

“I’ve done it, Michael, I’ve won, look at it!” Gavin yells out loudly as the machine spits ticket after ticket out at him, never stopping, and Michael can only cheer him on with the multitudes of people standing around that heard the machine light up and announce a jackpot. It’s a bit strange that people from Vegas cheer on other people who have one, but they’re probably hoping that the winner will pity them and give them something for their effort.

It doesn’t stop printing tickets for a good three and a half minutes, and by the time the machine stops, they’ve won seven thousand and three hundred dollars and forty-two cents, and Michael is so glad they’ve decided to come to Vegas. It’s a pure Christmas miracle. Ray is whooping loudly the entire walk to the cash-in booth, Michael and Gavin barely resisting joining in because they are professionals, thank you very much.

The point being, Ray is leading the way hooting and hollering with joy, singing horribly at the top of his lungs, and Michael is left feeling like he and Gavin are his parents, trailing behind him and completely embarrassed that their darling son would act like such a hooligan in public.

Gavin laughs loudly when Michael tells him this, and the conversation moves on to what they’re gonna spend their money on, but Michael can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to raise children with Gavin.

…

Thankfully, Gavin is smart and puts the majority of his money away in his savings account, where he can’t touch it easily, and the majority of the remainder on his card for food and gas and such (and maybe they booked themselves a room in that hotel that looks like a pyramid just because they could).

The rest of the night is spent gambling the remaining part of Gavin’s money in hopes of getting more, and where better than having it all ride on Michael’s shoulder in a good, old-fashioned game of Blackjack? Gavin and Ray sit on both sides of him at the table, and an old married couple sitting across from him and a guy that definitely looks like he’s a complete newbie are his only opponents, and he feels completely on top of the world.

The second he goes to put a huge bet down, he hesitates, and turns his eyes to Gavin, silently asking his opinion. Michael has no idea why he does this; Gavin knows literally nothing about Blackjack, or gambling (machines are one thing, but cards are another), and yet Michael needs to see what he thinks.

Gavin shakes his head no, and Michael draws all but three chips back.

The newbie ends up giving all his money to the old couple across the table, and Michael decides that Gavin is his official Good Luck Charm.

He wins almost every hand he plays that night.

…

“Dude, this room is so fucking boss!” Ray shouts loudly, pumping his fist in the air like the absolute loser he is, as he tosses his bag on one of the couches. Gavin had been generous and gotten them a suite, so there’s a fucking full-decked living room and four rooms and a completely stocked bathroom. It’s practically an apartment, Michael notices, but shrugs it off. He’s seen _The Hangover_ , he knows how ridiculous fancy places can get. And besides which, it isn’t like he hasn’t been carted off to some pretty ritzy places for business trips for Achievement Hunter before. So he’s at least vaguely familiar with the idea.

Gavin goes straight to the stocked fridge and pulls out some vodka and a Coke (“Dude, no Pepsi?” “Shut up, Ray, they’ve got what they’ve got.”), and then yanks down some shot glasses from the cabinet and promptly fills them, motioning Michael over.

It burns down Michael’s throat, but in a good way. Gavin pours them both another shot, and Ray announces his departure.

“Alright, if you guys are just going to drink the whole night, I’m gonna go catch some Pokemon. Night, losers.”

“Night, X-Ray!” Gavin and Michael take another shot, and Gavin giggles.

“You are such a light-weight, Gavin, Christ.” Michael laughs and goes over to the refrigerator to look for something a little less strong; he pulls out some regular beer bottles and sits back at the bar next to Gavin.

“Says the boy who got so smashed on fruity blue drinks he can’t even remember San Diego.” Gavin teases, but Michael just frowns.

“You never did tell me what happened that night, anyway.” Michael scoffs. “You’d think I’d remember it more clearly, anyway, considering I’m the one showered in love marks.” He takes a swig of his drink, and sees Gavin’s blush. “What is it?”

“Do you really not remember?” Gavin sounds disappointed, which doesn’t make a lick of sense. Michael’s the one with the fucking hole in his brain, after all.

“No, why the fuck do you think I’d be asking you if I remembered it?”

“Well…” Gavin’s voice is faint and trails off.

“What, Gavin? Come on, it can’t be that bad.” Really, the worst that could have happened is that it was some girl or guy that wasn’t really attractive, but seriously, what did it even matter? Michael just hates not having a piece of memory; blank spaces piss him off.

Gavin gives a rueful laugh. “Oh, you’d be surprised Michael.” He takes a sip from his own beer, and pauses for a few moments. “You’d be really surprised.”

“What does that even mean?”

Gavin just stands, leaving his beer on the bar and going towards one of the rooms.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

And Michael is left in Gavin’s wake, confused and dazed and slightly pissed off.

…

Gavin is the first one awake the next morning, banging around in the kitchen, making coffee and cereal, and it immediately wakes Michael up. He walks out into the living room, and sees Gavin clad in just his boxers, scratch marks along his back and bruises along his hips fading in the early morning sunlight.

Michael stops still in the entryway to the kitchen, and Gavin notices him.

They don’t say anything. They don’t move, Michael hardly daring to breathe as his eyes trail down Gavin’s chest to see the deep, finger-shaped bruises lining his hips; his hands itch in a vague memory.

Ray finds them like that, staring at each other with no words.

“Did I miss something?”  He asks, left eyebrow raised in wonder.

Gavin turns his head to Ray and blinks sleepily. “What?”

Ray laughs at how completely out of it Gavin sounds, and brushes the situation off. “Guess not, you sleepy fuck.” And Gavin goes about getting two more mugs and pours coffee into both of them, giving one black to Ray, but continues fixing up Michael’s exactly how he likes it. Years of telling Gavin how he likes his coffee when he’d done coffee runs for the crew had allowed Gavin to memorize how he wants it; it’s placed in front of him, and Gavin’s eyes meet his.

They almost pity him. A sort of “I told you it was a surprise, you just didn’t want to listen.”

It clicks.

…

As promised, the Grand Canyon is the next stop they make, and Michael is going to have a panic attack if Ray insists on leaning that far over the railing one more fucking time.

“Look at me, I’m flying! X-Ray to the rescue!” Michael yanks back on Ray’s shirt’s neckline, which, granted, chokes him slightly, but what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Ray, quit it.” Michael grouses, but Ray’s only response is to giggle and lean over _again_. Little fucker.

“And Vav swoops in to help the valiant X-Ray, effectively beating the enemy to a pulp.” Gavin’s voice joins Ray’s, and now instead of Michael feeling like Ray is his and Gavin’s child, he feels like a single-mother at her wit’s end.

“This is a national landmark, and you guys are playing at Power Rangers.”

“Oh, lighten up, Michael, we’re just havin’ a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, well, when some kid thinks it’s hilarious and pushes you off the edge, don’t cry out for Mogar to fly down and rescue you because, oh yeah, _he can’t fly because he’s a fucking human being_.”

After that, Michael just stops bothering with it, and when a child does come over and pushes very hard on Ray’s ass and he topples over slightly and shrieks loudly, Michael just says “I told you so.” like the petulant teenage girl he really is inside.

Of course, the mother is mortified that her three-year-old daughter had almost murdered a twenty-four year old man, but Michael is just satisfied the boys have learned their lesson.

Just like in Phoenix, the air is blazing hot, so Ray offers to buy them all drinks (well, he offers to take Gavin’s credit card and buy them all drinks). Michael and Gavin are left alone on the overlook, two-thousand, one hundred and thirty-four miles above sea level, and Michael’s left slightly breathless, sure, but he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the altitude.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Gavin asks, voice quiet and reserved.

“Talk about what, Gavin? That you and I fucked and you didn’t think it necessary to tell me? Because I don’t really think a whole lot more needs to be said on the matter other than it was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened, Gavin, not like that.”

And maybe Michael regrets his phrasing just the slightest bit, because Gavin’s shoulders slump and his body loses its spring, but he’ll stand by his opinion.

“Okay. We don’t have to talk about it, then, if all I am is a mistake.” And while Michael tries to formulate a sentence to reply with something intelligent, they stay in absolute silence until Ray returns with their water bottles.

Michael wishes water stings the same way rum does, but at least it brings about the same sort of clarity.

…

 Albuquerque isn’t all too interesting, but neither Michael nor Gavin were up to choosing their next destination, so Ray just plopped his finger down on the New Mexican map and it landed on the capitol. Go figure.

“Is there even anything to do in Albuquerque, Ray?” Gavin gripes; he’s been in a bad mood ever since the Grand Canyon, but Michael still doesn’t regret anything. Well, not everything, anyway.

Ray shrugs nonchalantly, whipping out his phone and doing a quick Google search.  Almost immediately, he lets out a childish giggle. “We could go to the zoo.”

“Alright.”

Even Michael’s surprised at his own quick response, but the other two just shrug and roll with it. Might as well.

…

Gavin’s mood doesn’t lift by the time they get to the zoo, but luckily Ray chalks it up to dehydration from the Canyon and sets about getting him plenty of water to drink, much to Gavin’s annoyance.

The zoo is beautiful; there’s a bunch of different exhibits to see, but due to Gavin’s bad mood, Ray lets Gavin pick where they go first. Gavin’s handed the map, and Michael can see he doesn’t want to exist at the moment, much less pick where they go in the zoo.

“Uh, the Australia exhibit?” He says, shrugging and sounding unsure of himself, and they are on their way.

It’s hotter than the Canyon was, so Ray’s even more anxious over Gavin, and it’d be amusing if Michael didn’t know that he is the cause of Gavin’s bad mood. Ray presses a bottle into Gavin’s hands and tries to get him to drink water, and Gavin is about to snap, so Michael steps in.

“Ray, leave him alone for a bit.”

Ray and Gavin look at him, differing expressions of surprise on their faces, but Michael just continues walking.

“A-alright. Uh, but Gavin-” Michael shoots Ray a warning look, but he continues, “is there anything in particular you wanted to see?”

Gavin just shrugs, so they follow random signs until they get to the birds exhibit; it’s a giant cage with birds flying inside, and Ray suggests they skip it, but Michael sees how Gavin’s eyes follow each bird’s flight pattern and a gentle smile tugs at the edge of his mouth.

“Let’s go in.”

Gavin’s eyes meet his for the first time that day, and Michael knows he’s said the right thing.

The birds are all the same species with varying colors, and upon a short query, Michael finds out they’re called budgerigars; he mentions it to Gavin a few minutes later. Gavin’s somehow managed to collect a few along his shoulders and one is nesting itself in Gavin’s hair, and while their talons must be sharp, Gavin’s laughter is bright and his eyes shine like they did in Long Beach.

“Looks like you’ve made some friends.” Michael says as he steps up to Gavin, his hands moving forward to pet one of the birds, and he only gets a second before it snaps its wings open and takes off.

“Michael, stop scaring all my friends away!” Gavin’s voice is light and filled with childlike wonder and he has a giant smile plastered across his face, even as the bird on his head begins pecking at his hair to fit it into a proper nest.

Their eyes meet.

“Sorry, it seems it’s a bit of a habit I’ve gotten into lately.”

Michael’s not sure why he said it, but the look Gavin gives him is worth it. Gavin looks around, the bird on his head squawking at him to not move so quickly, to see if Ray is around; he isn’t. He’d gotten distracted by some girl with blonde hair and a septum piercing about ten minutes earlier, and Michael hadn’t seen him since.

“Am I really a mistake, Michael?” He asks, voice quiet and unsure of himself.

“Do I think getting smashed and fucking you and not remembering a second of it is something I regret doing? Yeah. Like I said back in the Canyon, it shouldn’t have happened like that.” Gavin’s face looks absolutely devastated, and the arms holding up the birds slump, a few birds taking off with the movement.  Michael’s hand reaches up to touch Gavin’s cheek just the slightest bit.“Do I wish I wasn’t drunk off my ass so I could see everything you did and hear every sound you made that night? Do I wish I had every second of that night burned into my brain for the rest of my life? Do I wish I had more claim to that night other than the bruises on our bodies?”

They’re both blushing heavily, and Gavin’s arms are beginning to shake with the weight of the birds.

“Because yeah, I do wish for that. A lot, actually, it’s all I can think about, and-”

The birds fly off of Gavin’s arms as he throws them up in the air and around Michael’s neck, kissing him hard and fast and yeah, sure, there are children and families and Ray around them, but they don’t really give a single shit what any of them have to say because they have this, now.

Gavin’s the first to pull away. “Do you really mean it? The only thing you regret is that you don’t remember it?” His eyes are so full of hope, but there’s fear, too; Michael’s reminded of Los Angeles, when Gavin had been so afraid that his life was going to end.

All Michael can do is nod shortly before connecting their lips again.

…

A few hours later, they’re climbing into the van again, going to head back off to Austin to conclude their trip. Gavin’s back in the back seat, a new case of beer settled firmly next to him and a smile splitting his face; Michael’s face matches, easily, and Ray just looks between the two of them for a moment before shrugging it off. He’d gotten the girl’s number, and was pacified for the time being, just texting to her and ignoring his companions.

Gavin’s arms reach around Michael’s seat and around his chest, settling his head on the curve of the seat and giving Michael a kiss on the neck. Michael just chuckles and shoves Gavin off.

“I’m driving, dumbass.”

His voice is anything but scolding, so Gavin retreats with a smile.

…

A few hours later, and Ray looks up from his phone for the first time, only to stare at the radio in glee.

“Dude, this song’s my jam!” And he immediately turns the radio up as loud as it can go, and it’s the last thing Michael would expect (although, it’s always hard to tell with Ray): Africa, by Toto.

“Really, Ray?” Is Gavin’s laughing response, but Ray is already belting out the opening verse at the top of his lungs, and Michael laughs with him.

Despite himself, he joins in at the first chorus.

“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you,” His voice drags out, singing off-pitch or off-key or whatever it’s called, but it doesn’t really matter all that much, anyways. Gavin’s laughter gets louder when he hears Michael’s voice, so Michael starts singing to him, with dramatic arm sweeps and pursed lips and head banging to this pop song from the 1980s.

“You’re both absolutely ridiculous!” Gavin calls up to them, but they shrug it off. Who cares? They’re happy.  As the final chorus comes around, Ray takes the lead vocals, voice going above and beyond what it was meant to do and straining for the high notes, while Michael took the main vocals and led the chorus.

The song fades out slowly, as most ballads do, and they’re one hundred percent laughter and smiles and Michael almost has to pull the van off the road again, but he wipes the tears out of his eyes and carries on.

“This was a perfect trip, guys. Team Lads fuck the world.” Ray calls out, and Michael sees a fist being shoved into the air.

They’re in their mid-twenties, so naturally they all do a highly dramatic fist bump, complete with sound effects and explosions.

Michael can’t remember a time he’s been happier.

…

They arrive back in Austin on a Sunday, so Michael drops Ray off first so he can get his much-needed beauty sleep (“It’s not beauty sleep, assholes, I’m just tired.” “Sure, Ray, that’s it.” “Oh, fuck you guys.”), but Michael takes his time taking Gavin over to Geoff’s. Gavin has seated himself in the passenger’s seat, to be that much closer; he places his hand in Michael’s over the gear shift, and Michael takes every back road he can think of to get to the Ramsey’s.

When they do end up pulling in front of the house, though, Michael almost straight up asks Gavin if he wants to go back to his apartment. Almost.

Gavin’s biting his lip and avoiding his gaze, so Michael reaches up and grasps his jaw, gently bringing his face around and kissing him softly on the mouth.

They both draw it out as long as possible.

“So, this is, like, a real thing?” Gavin asks, breathless, and Michael vaguely wants to strangle him for being so obtuse.

“What do you want it to be, Gavin?” Michael asks, firm but relenting, in that he’ll be anything Gavin wants him to be. Anything, just to be close to Gavin any time he’s allowed to be.

“W-well, I want…” His voice is as hesitating as in the Luxor, and Michael presses a gentle kiss to his lips again, a soft reassurance that Gavin can speak his mind freely.

Finally, he meets Michael’s eyes.

“I think…I think that I want to be your boyfriend.” Gavin stutters out, and Michael’s smile is so wide and so immediate; he brings Gavin in close and kisses him again, long and hard and full of promises.

“I think I want that too.” Michael kisses him again, soft. “I think I want that a lot, actually.” Another. “I’d do anything for you, Gavin, you know that?” Another. And another, and another, and another, until there’s a knock on the window of the van, and they both turn to see Geoff looking very unimpressed with their demonstration. Their faces both pinken properly, and when Geoff motions for them to roll down Gavin’s window, Michael does without hesitation.

“As happy as I am for the both of you, I’d really appreciate you take your tongue-fest at least four miles away from my front lawn.” And with that, Geoff walks back into his house, and they’re just left in shock.

“Well. That was a thing that happened.” Gavin’s voice breaks through, and when their eyes meet, they can’t hold in their laughter; it bubbles out quickly and easily as the park rides outside Phoenix. It dies out slowly, and then Michael helps Gavin carry his bags to the front door. He had been planning on carrying them all the way to the back to Gavin’s shack, but as soon as they had made for the side gate, Geoff had stepped out the front door, saying he could carry the bags for them.

Michael conceded easily, considering he didn’t want his dick to be blown off any time soon. Well, maybe in other ways, but certainly not in the way that Geoff’s threatening glances suggested.

So Gavin and Michael are left standing on the front porch, the door cracked open and Geoff probably listening on the other side (or maybe Griffon, Michael wouldn’t put it past her). They’re holding hands and it isn’t so much awkward as unfamiliar, but they’ll work it out soon enough.

Michael says as much, and Gavin kisses him once more.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

And Gavin walks inside with a promise on his lips, and Michael leaves with one to keep.

As his fingers gently trace his mouth, trying to recreate the same gentle pressure Gavin’s mouth had had, he smiles to himself.

It won’t be a difficult one to keep. 


End file.
